#bbt x reader

Not that you’d come off as much cooler with your hasty, embarrassed acceptance. It wasn’t like guys were just falling over themselves to ask the local lit teacher out to dinner. Leonard had bumbled off toward a skinny guy that only looked annoyed, only to hurry back to give you his phone number. All while you stood there clutching a stack of biographies on Abraham Lincoln.

In the four days that followed, you often wondered why you had agreed to go. You had not been on a real date since college. It was hard to find the time when you were so busy grading essays and drawing up quizzes over The Lord of the Flies. And what did someone that worked at Cal Tech want to hear about weak excuses for papers on symbolism? 

You had talked to Leonard for five whole minutes. That seemed about as much as someone at his level would be able to deal with someone at yours. Now, standing in your shower and dripping soap from the ends of your fingers, you wondered if you shouldn’t just text him and call the whole thing off.

The battle raged inside you, back and forth, back and forth, for the duration of your bathing. Standing underneath the stream of water, you argued that you could handle one date, and clearly he liked you. You had noticed him watching you before, on other trips to that same bookstore. Scrubbing at your skin with a loofah, you told yourself that that was probably a sign of him being some creep or perhaps even a serial killer. By the time you’d finished your shower, you were too anxious to think straight. Even if Leonard had meant to ask you out, he wasn’t going to find you in your right mind that afternoon.

Maybe, you thought with a spurt of hope, he had decided to cancel. Yes, that seemed likely. There might have been some emergency at his school that required his scientific expertise. He wouldn’t be able to use your date as an excuse to stay away. Just rescheduling would be enough. Then perhaps you could get your head back on straight before you had to see him again. 

Unfortunately, your cell phone remained where you had left it charging in the kitchen, forcing you to endure your nervousness for as long as it took to dry your skin and slip on a robe. Only then could you exit the bathroom in search of relief.

It was quiet in your apartment, something unusual for the summer. As you passed the window, you saw some of the complex children tossing water balloons at one another in the parking lot below. You almost wished you could join them. It seemed so much less stressful than your current situation. This was all you could think about for a few more steps, until walking past your front door caused you to notice a shadow sitting on the bench nearby it. 

It was only walking past again a few seconds later with your sadly voicemail-less phone that the shadow's presence really registered. It was vaguely human-shaped and had been there so long that it could not be someone dropping off a package. Your heart leaped into your mouth as unbidden thoughts of a lurker or an intruder paraded through your mind. There you were, all alone, on a sunny Saturday afternoon. The likelihood of a neighbor hearing your cries for help wasn’t very high, and what help would those kids be? 

You stood there, watching. The shadow sat there, unmoving.

On tiptoes, you turned on the spot and slunk back to your room. Wedged between the nightstand and the back wall was an aluminum baseball bat kept for this very reason.

You wrapped your fingers firmly around the bat’s handle, then slunk back to the front door. Whoever was out there was still sitting in the exact same spot as before. It appeared that they were waiting for you to answer the door, perhaps to head to your car to leave for your date. Well, you’d be giving them what they wanted, wouldn’t you? Plus some brain damage.

You flung the door open and didn’t hesitate. 

The form jumped–and thank goodness added a “holy crap!” for good measure.  The voice was familiar. You stopped with your bat still in the air over your shoulder.

“Huh?” you said intelligently.

On his feet and cowering against the bricks was none other than your date. Leonard squinted at the raised bat in your hands, his arms held up to beat off your attack–an attack that now wouldn’t come. 

You gasped as you dropped the bat onto the welcome mat. “Leonard?”

“Uh, yeah, hi?” His voice tremored upward into a question. “I can leave, if you want me to.”

“No, no, I–what are you doing here?”

To your surprise, Leonard blushed bright red. “I, well…are you sure you don’t want to just smack me with your bat? It might put me out of my misery.”

“Misery?” you echoed.

He looked away and began to play with his fingers. For a few seconds, you thought he was going to answer. Then he bunched his shoulders up around his ears, only to force them down with what appeared to be great effort. This effort was nothing compared to what it took him to speak, however: “I–well, I was excited for our date. So I headed out, and I sort of…ended up here. An hour and a half early.”

“You just…ended up here?”

“I was excited,” he repeated. “I-I did get you flowers.”

Hastily, Leonard bent, picked something up, and held out a small bouquet, wilted slightly in the California heat. They’d been sitting on the bench with him the whole time. If you’d seen those, you wouldn’t have gone after him with a baseball bat. Probably. In the wake of your mute acceptance of this gift, he squirmed again.

“I stopped and did that. Still showed up early. I can leave, if you want. Probably don’t want to…huh?”

He trailed away at your trembling. That was the final straw. Seeing his dark eyes narrow uncertainly at you through the lenses of his glasses had you laughing fit to burst. Almost hesitantly, Leonard smiled back.

“Did I say something funny?” he asked.

“No…No, sorry,” you said, straightening as you rubbed the moisture from your eyes. “I just thought you were going to cancel on me.”

“Cancel? Why would I do that? I’ve been looking forward to this all week!”

“You can’t have!” 

You had meant this (mostly) in jest. Leonard’s stiffening made plain that he had not taken it this way. Your grin faded. 

“Well, I mean…” Why had you brought this up to begin with? You were afraid he thought you were stupid, and now he absolutely would. “I’m just…I’m me. And you work at Cal Tech.”

“Have you seen the people at Cal Tech?” Leonard asked. “Believe me. You’re the better deal.”

You offered him a shy smile. Maybe it could have been bigger, except the heat was starting to get to you. It had to be getting to him, too, in that jacket of his. “Would you like to come in?”

“Oh, I–uh, I don’t really want to interrupt. I can just wait out here. It’s–it’s no big deal.”

“Leonard.” 

He stopped fidgeting enough to look up at you, mouth slightly agape. 

You smiled wider as you pulled the door open a bit. “I just need to take care of my hair. You can have some coffee at my table before we go. I really don’t mind,” you added at what looked to be an argument forming on his lips. After all, you were still in your robe, and those kids in the parking lot were beginning to stare.

He looked toward the open door, eyes darting from you to the living room and back. “If–If you insist.” Slipping past you into the air conditioning, Leonard twisted toward you with a smile of his own. “I thought you would cancel with me. My neighbor says I’m a freak!”

You smiled into your flowers. Maybe Leonard was a freak. Most guys didn’t turn up an hour and a half early for a first date. If he was a freak, though, he was a freak in the right way. He wanted to be there. He hadn’t asked you out on some dare from his beanpole of a companion. Even better, he thought more of you than the geniuses at his school. 

The trouble was, Howard liked you. He liked you a lot. He liked you so much that it scared the brightly-colored skinny jeans right off him. Never before had he met a woman so intimidating and so attractive at the same time. Whether it was the way your lips parted when you were laughing (even when it was at him) or your eyes sparked when you were mad (not so much when it was at him), he was entranced. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t think he’d have you around much longer, because he was seeing a lot more of the latter than the former these days. Tonight's date was turning out no different.

“A carnival,” you muttered to yourself as you drove through the flat landscape just outside the city. “Really? A carnival?”

You kept saying that, over and over, in that infuriating way girls had that made all men worry over whether or not to risk some reply. As you were nearing your destination, Howard’s restraint found itself under considerable strain. He squirmed uncomfortably in the passenger seat.

“Is there…a problem? With the carnival?” he asked finally, with some attempt at a smile, nervous as it was.

“Why would there be a problem with the carnival, sweetheart?” you asked brightly.

“Well, you just keep repeating the word to yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You returned your attention to steering, and added quietly, “You’d think we’d go somewhere a little more adult for our one-year anniversary, that’s all.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” you sang.

Whatever was eating you was very clearly not nothing. For the duration of the trip–all twenty minutes of it–you continued to grumble under your breath. 

Howard drummed his fingers nervously against his knees in silence. Nothing. You’d said it was nothing. Once you got there, you’d have a good time. You weren’t the sort of girl to break up with your boyfriend on your first anniversary…right? He was being silly.

But if that were the case, then why, when the two of you got out of your car and headed for the blinking display in the distance, did you purposely step away from him when he tried to hold your hand? His palm wasn’t sweaty. He checked. You didn’t so much as grace him with a glance when he bought your entry tickets, let alone a smile. You merely pounded off down the lamp-lit corridor, looking quite pretty in the constantly shifting lights, but also quite angry.

“[Name], seriously,” Howard said when he caught up. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing’s the matter with me,” you answered, but you did so while scowling and crossing your arms over your chest.

He almost laughed. “You’re not a very good actress.”

“And you’re not a very smart engineer!” you burst out suddenly. Before he could recover, you were barreling on, “You really can’t figure it out? Really? How old are we supposed to be? And where did you choose to take us for our date? A carnival!”

He blinked. And blinked. And blinked some more. Then he smirked. “Oh, I get it. You don’t think the carnival is very adult. Well, that’s just silly!” This time, he did laugh, with relief, sidling closer to add in a low voice, “There are plenty of adult things to do at the fair. For instance, there’s the tunnel of love…”

“I am not screwing you in the tunnel of love, Howard!” you shouted, so loudly that several nearby heads swiveled in your direction.

Normally he admired your brash approach to sex–really admired it–but maybe here wasn’t the best place to talk about that. There were kids around, after all. 

He smiled sheepishly before pushing you further down the grassy lane. “That’s not what I meant. Well, okay, it is. But come on, [Name]. You told me to pick a place for our anniversary, and you didn’t like my first idea.”

“It was the Cheesecake Factory! You really think I wanted to spend my anniversary watching you ogle that waitress?”

Howard did not protest this blatant mischaracterization–because it wasn’t. There would have been ogling. Two beautiful women to look at on one evening? As if he should have been so lucky. Obviously, he hadn’t been. “Look, I had that plan. You shot it down. Now we’re here instead, with no Penny in sight.”

“You’ve never heard of dancing? Or dinner somewhere else? A movie, maybe?”

“Well, sure, those are the suggestions Penny gave me when I asked her–”

“You talked to Penny? About our anniversary?”

“She knows what girls like you like!”

“I am nothing like Penny.”

“You’re a little like Penny.” 

Your hatred for Penny was well known within Howard’s group of friends (even by Penny), but honestly, was now the time? Especially when Howard had gone out of his way to not involve her in the evening. 

“She’s a romantic. She knows what women in general like, but,” he added swiftly, “I know how much you hate her, so I used Sheldon’s idea instead.”

“Sheldon’s idea?”

He could not believe he was having this argument here, with the delicious smells of frying corn dogs and funnel cakes wafting through the air. Whatever happened to giggling and clinging to each other going through the haunted house? Why did there always have to be an argument?

“Yes. Sheldon’s idea,” he said. “Admittedly, he did say it was so we could be among our own kind–the clowns–but I thought it sounded fun, and it wasn’t anything she-who-must-not-be-named mentioned. So could we please just try to have a good time?”

You didn’t say anything, but you did follow him, so Howard figured that you had at least agreed to try. That turned out to be exactly what you had agreed to: trying, and nothing more. You did eat a corn dog…grudgingly. You did kiss him inside the tunnel…while scowling. And you did go with him into the House of Mirrors…you just didn’t come out with him. 

Seeing you upset wasn’t exactly the way he had planned this night to go. No, his plan had involved a lot more smiling, a bit of inappropriate touching, and maybe some hanky-panky when you two got back to your apartment. None of that appeared to be on horizon now, and Howard was starting to panic.

“Let’s go try out the games now, all right?” he said, desperation coloring his words as surely as his vice-grip on your hand did.

You didn’t try to slip away this time, just sighed. “Howard, I’m tired. Can’t we go home?”

“And do what?” he asked, letting go of himself.

You stuck your lower lip out and shrugged, a sure sign that if he let you drive the two of you home, you would fake a headache and send him on his way as soon as you arrived.

“You haven’t even attempted to have a good time tonight. At least let me try. Here, I bet I could win you one of those bunnies." 

He said this as you passed by one of the game stalls. This one was a little bit emptier, perhaps due to the scary-looking muscular carnie running it. The attraction was a strength tester, hammer, bell, and all, and almost all the prizes–the aforementioned pink stuffed bunnies–remained hanging from their posts at the sides of the tower.

“Howie, I don’t know…”

Your following bitten lip was the last straw. He crammed a roll of ones into the carnie’s outstretched palm, rolled up his sleeves, and picked up the waiting mallet. 

“I think I know what I’m doing,” Howard told you over his shoulder. “Everyone knows these really don’t test your strength. It’s all in where you hit the pedal. As an engineer, I know the exact place. It’s simple physics. I’m guaranteed to win you a prize.”

He swung down with all his scrawny might, then waited, watching, listening. No sound followed. No ding. The weight went up two notches, hovered there, then…fell right back down to the pedal.

“Let me guess,” growled the carnie, “y’ didn’t mean to hit it there.”

Normally, Howard would have agreed. Normally, he would have tried again and again and again until he finally managed to impress the woman he had been seeing romantically (and sexually) for a year. But this time he couldn’t. Not anymore. If this date had proven anything, it was that Howard Wolowitz could never impress a woman like [F Name] [L Name].

He set the hammer down, carefully. Then he walked over to you, carefully.

“Meet you back at the car,” he muttered as he stared past you.

To the car, however, was not where he went. A long, oppressively quiet drive back to the city wasn’t going to help matters. Nothing would. At least a plate of funnel cake would make him feel less like throwing up that corn dog from earlier, though. Or maybe more. Still couldn’t make him feel worse than Raj texting him at that exact moment to check in:

Hey, man. How’s it going with [Name]?

Terrible, Howard replied.

Doesn’t like the carnival, huh? I knew you should have listened to Penny. [Name] likes that sort of thing, too.

[Name] is nothing like Penny.

She’s exactly like Penny, and she hates the date, doesn’t she?

Fine. Yes. [Name] hates the date. Does that make you feel better about yourself?

A little bit. I always said she was too good for you.

Raj had a point. Clearly Howard had no idea what he was doing. Of course he didn’t! He’d never had a one-year anniversary in his entire life. Not that Raj had either. 

Heart sinking, Howard crammed a piece of funnel cake into his mouth. His stomach churned. If he tried to force anything else into his down his throat, it would all come out, and wasn’t that just the way he wanted you to see him before you dumped him? Better to start bracing for the inevitable breakup waiting for him in the car. He hopped off the bench to throw his plate into the overflowing trashcan nearby, only to run straight into one of those stuffed bunnies from before.

“Hey,” said a familiar voice.

Howard cast his eyes above the pink ears settled against two shapely breasts to see your face. This was of very little comfort to him, given the circumstances.

“Hey,” he answered sulkily, then brushed by to finish what he had been doing before you’d so rudely interrupted.

You followed, still clutching the rabbit. 

Howard snorted. “New boyfriend win that for you? Let me guess. He’s the carnie.”

“No.” 

Your voice was soft. Apparently you weren’t offended at the idea of sleeping with some muscle-bound weirdo, then, so long as he was muscle-bound. Howard rolled his eyes as he stalked off toward the parking lot. 

“Howie, wait,” you called after him.

Against his better judgement, he did.

You ran up, paused, then thrust the rabbit into his chest. “I won him for you.”

A sardonic smile graced his lips before he noticed that there wasn't hint of sarcasm in your eyes. In fact, they were big and wide and beautiful and how could he be mad at you when you looked at him like that?

“You…did?” he asked as he hesitantly took the stuffed animal.

You averted your eyes. “Yeah. I mean, you wanted one really badly.”

“For you! Because I wanted you to get something out of this date!”

“I know.” You took a deep breath and forced your gaze back up to him. “I did. I’m sorry. I guess I just had so many expectations about this date that I…I sort of ruined it, didn’t I?”

“A little. This is cute, though. You really won it for–for me?”

“Who else am I gonna win it for?”

“Your new boyfriend?”

You responded by punching him in the shoulder–but softly. “The only boyfriend I want is you, okay? So long as you don’t want to break up with me over me being such a brat tonight.”

His first thought was to say of course not! When was he ever going to find another girl like you to agree to spend time with him? Or have sex with him for that matter? Howard had never had any luck in that department before. But he stopped that thought dead in its tracks, because he had got a wonderful idea.

“Well,” he said, fidgeting with the rabbit’s cheap plastic eye, “I am pretty sad. I went to all this work. If you wanted to make it up to me when we got back to your apartment, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Why did I just know you were going to try to guilt me into sex?” You shook your head, but at the same time, took his hand in your of your own volition for the first time that evening. “Come on, geek. We’ve got business to take care of.”

“Yes ma’am! And Mr. Bun can watch.”